Overwatch
by AZGirl
Summary: Mac was struck dumb for a moment by how much the two worlds were intersecting, but then shrugged it off as coincidence.


**Spoilers:** Some minor references from the first two seasons have been sprinkled in.

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 **ooooooo**

He walked carefully and silently into the enclosure through the partially-open door which had been built to give access to the humans. He knew his efforts would be in vain given the sharp ears of the beings that lived within, but he couldn't help himself; recently, careful and silent was about all he could manage on most days.

His eyes were doing their best to adjust to the darkness, which was tempered by the filtered light coming in from the door he'd entered through, but the effort was in vain. One by one, the egg-shaped lanterns along the walls began to come to life and cast a warm, yellow glow throughout, making it that much more difficult to pass through unnoticed.

Angus hadn't wanted to go to the Remuda, as the humans called it, though the name wasn't quite accurate, but he'd been given no choice over the matter. His commanding officers had given him an order, and he had no choice but to follow it.

In the days and weeks since his last Overwatch Companion, Pena, had been killed after accidentally setting off a deadly snare, Angus had overheard several others speculating whether he would self-destruct. And, to a certain extent, he had self-destructed. The young mage had retreated from the world, becoming more closed off than he'd ever been before. He rarely spoke to anyone, took his meals alone if he ate, and barely got any sleep.

The bond which had linked him and Pena had been severed with no warning and due to great violence. Given his place in the war, and the duties he performed, this was not unexpected. The type of bond between Overwatch and Specialist was always meant to be temporary, and always likely to end in death of one or the other, or both, of the bonded. It was extremely rare for a connection to be so strong that it became a Life Bond, a bond that was inseparable and basically one of co-dependence.

He had been taught how to deal with the severing of a temporary bond, and had already gone through it more than once. This time, Angus's grief was not abating, the hollowness within was growing ever deeper, ever wider. This time he felt as though nothing would be able to fill the void within him. More than once Angus had wondered if it was possible he had been damaged by the dramatic severing of too many bonds in his relatively short life, including those of both of his parents.

Once the mandated healing period had concluded, a new match was supposed to have been made with a new Overwatch, but thus far Angus had not been able to connect with any of them. His superiors didn't understand what was wrong with him, and weren't sure what to do with him. Though younger than most, Angus was one of their best Specialists, and Command didn't want to lose him to another division or have to discharge him entirely. All the tests that had been run were inconclusive, and all attempts to bond with any of the active Overwatches ended in failure.

It was the last resort of his commanding officers that he was sent to this particular Remuda. The Delta Remuda was for those dragons who were on the cusp of retiring, those who were ready to fly away home and live in peace.

As Angus continues walking, he passes by the entrances to several caves, part of a large network of ones that house the dragons within the Istan Mountains. So far, none of the dragons have stirred the least bit, and he can't find it within him to care, even if the work was still important to him and he needed an Overwatch to continue it.

Nothing stirs within him as it should if there was a match nearby. This nothingness is the same thing he felt in the other Remudas where dragons were awaiting their Specialist. The doubt that had crept into his mind days ago about his worthiness for another bond gains more ground and spreads into the farthest corners of his psyche.

For a time, he considers turning around and leaving, giving up on the idea of ever finding another Overwatch. These Deltas have done their duty time and again, and Angus doesn't want to keep any of them from going home as scheduled. He could turn around, but he doesn't.

Instead, he keeps walking, making a sort of game of anticipating when the next lantern on the wall will illuminate as well as when the ones behind him will go dark. He's always been fascinated by the ancient lanterns, which were meant for the comfort of the humans rather than the dragons whose vision was the best of all the creatures in the world. While he was able to fix or restore the lanterns, he has yet to learn how to create a new one. Perhaps, in time, he will figure it out.

As he turned into the next section of the Delta Remuda, Angus is suddenly enveloped in complete darkness. The lantern ahead doesn't illuminate, and he's far enough from the previous one that it has gone dark. He has a choice: fix the lantern or turn and go back the way he came.

He never could resist the lure of fixing something that was broken.

Angus drew his knife out of the sheath hanging at his waist. The knife had belonged to his grandfather, who had taught him how to enchant it to become any tool he required. He quickly transformed the knife into a small lantern, which gave him enough light to make his way over to the broken one on the wall.

He'd barely touched it when suddenly something hit him hard enough to send him flying backwards to the ground. It took him several moments to recover his breath and stand. He was barely on his feet when, in the dim light of his transformed knife, he saw something large and black heading towards him.

Angus barely dodged what he now knew to be the tail of an Overwatch Dragon. "Hey! Watch it!"

"That's not yours," a deep, gravelly voice said.

"It's not yours either."

"That's where you're wrong. It's just outside my cave, which makes it mine. If I had wanted it fixed, I would've done it myself."

"Really?" Angus asked with obvious disbelief in is voice. He greatly doubted an Overwatch knew the basics of a mage's work.

"Yes," the dragon said, though Angus was fairly certain the Overwatch was lying. "Now leave."

Frustration and irritation welled up equally within Angus. He wished he could leave but he couldn't; he had his orders and said so to the dragon.

"Well, I don't want you here, youngling." The dragon's tail slashed through the air; it was probably supposed to be a threat, but it came nowhere near hitting him again. "Go!"

"Fine!" Angus said, inexplicably feeling as if he'd been abandoned. He'd never felt that way after meeting an Overwatch, but knew the feeling intimately. His father had abandoned him, severing their parental bond many years ago.

He turned around, went back the way he came, and then continued on down another fork in the Remuda's system of tunnels. When he'd finished, he stepped out into the waning sunlight. None of the other Overwatch Dragons had paid any heed to him at all. He'd failed to find another companion, and didn't know where he would end up next, but knew he would no longer be a Specialist. The rejection stung, but it was quickly pushed into the background in favor of attempting to figure out what he'd do next with his life.

Angus reported his failure to bond with any of the Delta Remuda's Overwatches to his superiors, also mentioning the incident with the broken lantern and black dragon. Something in his commanding officers' faces made him think he should have kept that interaction to himself, but it was too late now. They dismissed him, and instead of getting something for dinner, Angus went to his room.

The next morning, he answered a summons from his commanding officers. When he was told to follow Martinez, Angus thought he was about to be shown to his new duty station. Instead, he was surprised to find they were heading towards the Delta Remuda. Perhaps he was going to be given a chance to fix that lantern, and the officer was to keep the Overwatch from stopping him.

Martinez stopped them near enough to the black dragon's cave that the light behind them remained illuminated.

"Jakša!" Martinez said, yelling at the top of his voice.

It was several moments before there was movement within the cave, but eventually the Overwatch ambled out of his cave, and Angus got his first real look at the dragon.

Now that he was able to get a good look at the dragon via the light of a working lantern, Angus realized that Jakša was not black but dark brown and about average size for an Overwatch. From the pattern of grey scales on the sides of his head, it was obvious the dragon was older than most other Overwatches.

"Jakša meet your new Specialist, Angus MacGyver," Martinez said.

"What?!" Angus said, wishing he'd misheard his commanding officer.

At the same time, Jakša said, "Sixty-four more days, Sir. You promised."

"And I'm keeping that promise," Martinez said, lifting a hand to his heart. "Angus needs an Overwatch, and you're the only one he reacted to in the slightest. Command thinks that it's just enough for a temporary bond until the next batch of Overwatches comes in."

"But, Sir, I—" Angus started to protest, but he was cut off.

"Stow it, Specialist." Martinez tersely said. "Orders are orders. You two are it until Jakša retires. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," Jakša and Angus each said in turn.

Angus turned and watched Martinez walk away, feeling vexed in how things had turned out. When he looked back at Jakša, the dragon's head was level with his.

"Angus MacGyver… What kind of name is that?" his new Overwatch said with a laugh. "I've heard of you. Some kind of wunderkind Specialist. Didn't your previous Overwatch just die because of you?"

Angus ignored the flare of hurt inside him at the reminder of what had happened to his previous Overwatch. "I've heard your name too, Jakša. What's an old, loudmouth, knuckle-dragger like you still doing out here?"

"Every Specialist I've ever bonded with has made it home to their loved ones, so don't you worry about my age, MacGyver. Sixty-four more days to go, and nothing is going to keep me from seeing my homeland again."

"Works for me. Sixty-four days and we'll never have to see each other again."

" _MacGyver?"_

"I'm right here. Why are you—?"

" _MacGyver!... Mac!"_

"I never said you could call me—"

Dark brown talons wrapped around his forearm. _"Mac!"_

ooooooo

Mac sat up, startled by the hand on his forearm, barely managing to stop himself from reacting with a right hook towards the person who'd touched him.

Jack held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, his eyes conveying an apology for the rude awakening. "Again, dude? Are you still having those weird dreams about unicorns?"

"Actually, it was dragons this time," Mac said as he stood and stretched his back.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I always thought dragons were way cooler than unicorns."

Jack follows him out of his room and into the kitchen. "Brother, we talked about you burning both ends of the candle."

"I know we did, Jack, and I didn't mean to." Mac grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator. "It just…"

"I know, and I'm not trying to helicopter parent you, but I don't…"

"You don't want me to get hurt on your watch."

"Exactly," Jack said and grinned, causing Mac to smile in return. "Hey man, did you fix my lantern yet?"

"Lantern?" he asked, slightly weirded out that Jack had asked about something that had been in his dream.

"Yeah, my camping lantern. The black one. You said two weeks ago, that if we didn't have a mission, we'd go camping this weekend, maybe explore those caves. Bond with nature and all that jazz. You need a break, man."

"That lantern's not yours."

"It's not yours either."

"See that's…" Mac trailed off as he recognized part of a conversation he remembered having in his dream.

"That's what?"

"Nevermind. It's in the garage. I finished fixing it yesterday."

"Thanks, man." Jack said as he started to get ingredients for omelets out of the refrigerator. "Do you still think you can get the replay of that old Talons game on your dish thingy? I've been looking forward to watching it."

Mac was struck dumb for a moment by how much the real world was intersecting with his dream world, but then shrugged it off as coincidence.

"Of course, but I think I might need to make an adjustment first," Mac said as he pulled his Swiss Army Knife out of his pocket.

He couldn't help but smile as he briefly wondered what he would enchant the knife to become next.

 **ooooooo**

 _The end._

 **ooooooo**

 **A/N:** _**Jakša**_ is Jacob in Siberian. A _**remuda**_ is a herd of horses from which ranch hands select their remounts (as in a change of horses). The _**Talons**_ _,_ i.e. the San Antonio Talons, were a professional arena football team in Texas.

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for proofing and the story's title! Any remaining mistakes are my fault.

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_

 **Disclaimer:** MacGyver is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.


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